


The Game (re-written)

by JulianGreystoke



Category: Original Work, SciFi - Fandom
Genre: Adventure, Arena, Battle, Combat, Death, Female Lead, New Species, Slavery, Teams, new aliens, scifi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 10:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12885900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulianGreystoke/pseuds/JulianGreystoke
Summary: Song is an intergalactic slave who has learned to hide her feelings and not make ripples. Her relatively comfortable life as a household slave is torn asunder when she is sold by the only family she has ever known and plunged into a world of deadly games for the entertainment of the cruel and manipulative muu. Song, as well as her two unwitting new teammates, must struggle to survive and hope to escape before they meet violent ends.~This is the first three chapters of the re-written version of 'The Game' which was originally a Mass Effect fic.  You can still read the original version on my page.  I have decided I love these characters and this story enough to turn them into an original work.  Check it out and leave your thoughts!This is NOT the final version, and there will be spelling errors, but this is similar to what my eventual beta readers will be getting.





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1  
Slaves Like Us

Song raised her head, blinking in the dim light of the carrier hold. She had been dosing in her seat and her neck crackled with stiffness. She squared her shoulders against the cold bulkhead behind her and listened intently, trying to figure out what had wakened her. She peered through the dimness of the narrow cargo hold to a vissi seated across from her, his mottled black skin contrasted starkly with the reddish-brown wall. Like her, the alien was immobilized with magnetic cuffs on his slim wrists and ankles. His golden eyes were open and he turned his head curiously, seemingly wakened by the same mysterious clatter that had stirred Song from her sleep.

There was a moment of stillness and all Song could hear was her breathing and the steady hum of the ship around them.

A metallic 'thud' reverberated the wide, sliding door near the vissi and caused them both to jump. The door squealed unwillingly open and three figures appeared, the light behind them momentarily blinding. Blinking furiously, Song recognized two of the figures as the reeki slavers Romnus and Corvek. Between them a third figure struggled. After much squinting and blinking her watering eyes she was finally able to make out a human male twisting and attempting to throw punches as he was hauled into the hold. He was cuffed and hobbled, which she knew the reeki wouldn't have bothered with for her.

The new human was well muscled, with blonde hair that was a sloppy brush of freshly shaved stubble across his scalp. Song wondered idly when he had been captured. The slavers only took able-bodied adults when the situation presented little threat. If this man was newly captured, she thought, he had probably been alone.

“Stop struggling,” growled Romnus in a tone which implied this was not the first time he had said it. His galaxy common was accented with clicks and smacks as his mouth-parts struggled with syllables designed for species with tongues. The insectoid slaver gripped the struggling human with both his primary and secondary arms as the man twisted, attempting to jerk free.

“It will go much easier for you if you behave yourself. Just look at these two.” Corvek used a secondary arm to gesture at Song and the vissi, who had already put his head back down, as if in slumber.

The struggling man didn't reply, but attempted a double footed kick as he was slammed onto the metal bench, beside Song. His attack was easily thwarted when Corvek magnetized his hobbles and the man's feet slammed to the floor with a solid 'clunk'. Song grimaced faintly, then settled her face into a practiced, neutral expression. There were so many empty seats left, why had they put the trouble maker beside her?

“There,” Romnus sighed, patting the man's head patronizingly. “Now you sit still and be good. We'll soon have you delivered to your new owners.”

The man bit at the reeki's hand. Both slavers let out the unnerving, chortling series of clicks that passed for laughter. “Fighting spirit! Good. Exactly what was requested. The buyer will be pleased.” They walked out, still clicking greedily to one another. The door slammed shut with a hiss and a clank leaving the slaves in the semi-dark.

Song was about to let her chin fall back to her collarbone for sleep when the man beside her spoke. “My name is Cale Blake. What's yours?”

She considered him for a moment before answering. “Song.”

“Song? Just Song, like the noun?” He raised a thick eyebrow.

“I was named by the muu. They're very literal and you can usually tell a career slave by how they're named.” A faint smirk edged onto her full lips. This Cale was definitely brand new. He was going to have a tough road ahead.

“There's no such thing as a career slave,” Cale snorted.

“It's what they call us.” The vissi raised his head, watching the humans. “Most of us were born into slavery, or taken very young.”

Cale peered back and forth between them. “So you've both been slaves your entire lives? How's that possible? Doesn't The Collective know you're out here? Slavery's illegal.”

Song knit her brows. “I think I was born in a human colony, but I have been a slave as long as I can remember.” She tried to settle herself again, but the wall behind her was frigid and every muscle was complaining as she had been forcibly sitting in the same attitude for hours. She determinedly did not look to the man beside her. She didn't have time for green slaves. It wasn't her job to train him and they probably wouldn't end up with the same placement anyway. At least, she hoped not.

The newcomer wasn't done. “What's your name?” Cale addressed the vissi.

“I'm called Five,” the slim alien answered. “And before you ask a foolish question, yes, that really is my name.”

“So why does Song have a name and you only get a number?” Cale asked, squinting at Five across the narrow cell.

“Because I was bought in a litter together with my siblings. They didn't need any other way to keep track of us, numbers were simplest.”

Song peered through the dimness at the vissi. He looked exactly like every member of his race that she'd seen. Shorter than the average human male, and slender, with no body hair, and smooth, oil-black skin. Only his eyes stood out, large and slow blinking. Song wondered if she could have told him apart from his siblings even with numbers involved.

“Alright,” Cale wriggled, seemingly checking his cuffs for tightness. “I give up. Who or what are these muu we're supposedly prisoners of?”

Song raised an eyebrow. She didn't have any stake in this man's life or death, but she couldn't bring herself to see him take on his new life as clueless as he was. She heaved a sigh, “You really aren't from around here, are you? The muu are the dominant race out here.” she raised her chin in the direction of the ceiling to indicate the stars beyond the bulkheads. “They're prime buyers of slaves from the reeki, and they're the reining power out here at the ass end of the galaxy.”

“Except that they're lazy, from what I've heard,” Five cut in.

“Not lazy, exactly,” Song shook her head, shifting her curiosity towards Five. Was she the only one who had actually worked for the muu before?

Five continued to explain without her input. “The muu could colonize more planets out here if they wanted to, but they won't. They're too busy with their internal, political squabbling and their entertainment.”

“Entertainment?” Cale asked.

“The muu love to be entertained. It's like they're allergic to boredom,” Song mused with a flash of fond memory. “The little girl I took care of at my last post was that way. She loved to watch vids, when she wasn't begging me to play some game or another.” Before a weak smile outstayed its welcome Song let it drop from her lips, her face falling into a long cultivated blank expression. Thoughts of Asla and Song's previous home were bitter sweet, and growing more bitter by the day.

“What do the muu look like?” Cale's voice echoed too loud from the icy walls of the hold.

“They're taller than us and they walk upright,” Song began, noting that Five too sat forward as best he could. “They have four spider-like legs, and two arms. They're longer in the torso than us. Their hands aren't as skillful as ours.” Cale blinked confusedly at her. “Thumbs.” she explained. “They don't have thumbs, but they're strong prism users which compensates for their lack of dexterity. They can manipulate objects with prism fields, but they still they lean heavily on slave labor.”

“You both seem very calm about all this,” Cale shot an uneasy glance around the hold, perhaps seeking some weak point.

Song could not recall a time before her masters. Before her life was a series of tasks. She had been well treated in that first home after her training. She knew of some slaves whose masters would use their prism to make loads heavier, or to hurl objects at them. “What else would we do?” She met the man's blue eyes with her deep brown.

“I don't know,” Cale sounded annoyed. “Anything you wanted?”

“My masters gave me free time,” she countered, certain that wasn't the answer he was looking for.

“What did you do in your free time?”

“I played games of strategy with some of the other slaves,” she said, allowing a faint smugness into her voice. As a house slave she had been extensively trained before her first appointment, only being placed when she was in her teens and well versed in muu language and culture, to begin the teaching of her young charge. “Sometimes I would sing, which is why my masters gave me my name. I'm told that when I first came to them they asked what talents I had, and I just burst out singing. I must have been so nervous that day, but happy to finally be placed with a family.”

Cale stared her, mouth agape. As though she'd told him she ate bugs for breakfast. The urge to glare back at the newcomer was strong, but Song pursed her lips and faced forward again, leaning her shaved head against the wall and closing her eyes. There wasn't any use talking to this uneducated man. She'd given him enough to get started. The rest of his life was none of her business.

“What did you do before, Five?” It seemed Cale couldn't take a hint. Song had to bite back an annoyed groan.

The vissi didn't answer. Song wondered if he too had decided he was done answering questions when his voice finally rang out. “I was...unwanted. I was taken from slave ring to slave ring, never purchased until now.”

Song's eyes flashed open. She had never heard of a slave going unpurchased for so long. She watched the lean creature across from her, wondering if he had some deformity she couldn't spot. Some flaw that was not readily noticeable. After a few moments under her scrutiny he raised his large eyes and stared her down. Song found herself more interested in a rivet on the floor as he clarified; “vissi are plentiful, but we don't make good laborers. Some of us are never placed.”

“Well, you were now,” Song said flatly.

“Was that meant to be reassuring?” Cale snapped, staring at them both with unconcealed panic etched in the shadowed planes of his face. “Where are we going now? Are we going to be house slaves? Toil in a mine? Work a farm? What?”

Song didn't answer. Five may have been happy to have a placement at last, but Song was not pleased with the events that had brought her to this grimy transport ship. The muu matured quickly and the little girl Song had been charged with had grown into an imperious young adult who had no more need for a nursemaid. Song had assumed she would be given a job around the household, but instead she found herself on the auction block as though her years of faithful service meant nothing. And perhaps they didn't. The muu were an impersonal people. Song had good friends amongst her fellow slaves. Bonds bordering on familial with some, but for the muu relationships were a thing of necessity rather than emotion. They became mated pairs to better their stations and pass on superior genes. The relationships of the slaves were seen as frivolous and even repulsive to their masters. Yet, Song had always thought that she and young Asla had shared some kind of bond. Something that would have coaxed the girl to speak on Song's behalf when the slavers came knocking. Instead she'd been shoved out the door with nothing but the clothes on her back and the cuffs on her wrists. She didn't even know how much she'd sold for.

Distantly Song was aware that her two companions were still talking in low tones. Her mind was overcrowded with the faces of her fellow slaves when they had said goodbye. One naar in particular had been very close. Bright Eyes, she was called. Just as Song was envisioning her naar's angular, feline face and sparkling gaze, the slave ship gave a lurch and there was a distant clanging rattle. Song's stomach tried to launch itself past her ribs with the motion and she winced.

“We're docking,” Cale leaned forward, tugging against his bonds. Song wondered how he knew.

Shortly the reeki were back, clicking their mouth-parts and holding the remotes to release the magnetic cuffs. They walked with the lanky, long legged stride that might have been graceful, if Song could draw her eyes from their grotesque, shapeless torsos or bulbous, unblinking eyes. The last time Song had interacted with the reeki had been when she was a child, plucked from her home amongst the humans and transported to the stars.

One stopped in front of Song now and nodded to her. When her cuffs demagnetized from the wall she docilely clasped her hands before herself as the cuffs clacked together once again. There was no need to hobble her, she walked where she was bidden. Five behaved in the same manner, eyes cast low.

Cale was a different story. Song found it difficult to watch as the reeki used their shock batons on him until the human was doubled over and gasping in pain. Song thought Romnus gave Cale a few more jabs than were strictly necessary, but she kept her expression artfully neutral. She allowed her eyes to go hollow and glazed, something she learned in her time with the muu. As if she had no thoughts or emotions at all. 

Engaged as the two slavers were with Cale, they turned their backs on Song and Five. In her mind's eye Song saw herself dart forward and throw her arms over one of the reeki's bulbous heads, then strangling the life out of him all her strength. These unhelpful flights of fancy always made it challenging to keep her features still, but she was a professional after all. She dug her nails into her palms as Cale yelped again, twisting away from the sparking baton as best he could.

With Cale subdued and stumbling along, a line of drool dangling from his slack lips, the three slaves were ushered from the holding bay and out of the small slaving vessel. Song expected to be let out onto a planet. She anticipated shrubs, trees and sky. The muu valued and cultivated the beauty of natural plant life on their worlds. Instead, the three were marched through a gaping hangar bay which Song did not have time to appreciate with her head dutifully lowered; and down a pristine, white hallway. They passed a long window and Song cocked her head to catch sight of star freckled blackness. 

“A station,” she exhaled, dread seeping through her veins with each shudder of her heart. No. This wasn't right. Perhaps the slavers were only dropping Five and Cale off here. She was too valuable and well trained to be a mere station laborer. Perhaps an auction being held here so she could be passed on to a proper household?

The hallway was empty and sterile, and soon the three slaves were guided into a small room with a magnetic strip along the walls at waist height for the securing difficult slaves. For the moment Cale was behaving himself, but Song eyed him darkly anyway. There were no windows here and the walls were the same, clinical white Song feared she might smudge if she touched it. The only color in evidence was a blue sign above a door at the room's far end reading: “processing” in the muu language. Song swallowed as she was guided to stand in line with her companions. Only her behavior conditioning was keeping her still and passive as her heart assaulted her ribs with a panic she had not felt since she was a child. A slow and terrible realization seeped into her mind and wouldn't be dislodged. Something far worse than being a common laborer. Everything here was too stiff, too lifeless. There wasn't so much as a potted plant. No, this was far, far worse than she had first imagined. Sweat pooled in her clamped fists and trickled down her spine. Her eyes darted frantically, the only part of her she allowed to move. Be calm. Reveal nothing.

A male muu wearing a head-covering with alternating red and blue trim (a clerical worker, Song interpreted), entered by the far door. His feet clacked rhythmically against the floor and he clasped his hands before him. The muu peered haughtily at the slaves down a rounded, almost non-existent nose above a lipless slit of a mouth. His skin was the same warm cream color as all of their race, though his large eyes were rimmed with purple paint. This was a decoration, Song knew, rather than a mark of status. Just because the muu disdained showing emotion did not mean they avoided any sense to style.

The muu raised a slender hand -thumbless and with the four remaining fingers fused close together by a thick webbing of skin- and glinting shards of light danced across his palm. The air before him fractured, splintering, shifting polygonal shape and he twisted the light into matter with his prism ability. The gathering of prism, about the size of a fist, hovered to a pocket in the muu's robe and plucked out a datapad. The muu glanced at it briefly before casting a baleful gaze over the slaves again. “The requisition order was for fighters and this is what you bring me?” He asked in galaxy common.

“You weren't very specific,” Corvek folded his secondary arms, his primary ones still clamped on Cale's broad shoulders. His lidless eyes were unreadable and Song cut her glance away from the bulging orbs with a shiver. “You wrote that you needed new slaves and that adults were preferred. And you wanted them in a hurry. When you rush us, you sacrifice quality. The male human's a fighter and the female's obedient. I know you have use for vissi. Stop complaining and pay us.”

“Very well,” the muu said, face and voice still expressionless, though Song could detect the barest hint of annoyance in his posture. The sparkling prism gathered around the datapad flashed and Song heard the beeping sound of buttons being pressed. The muu usually didn't bother with things like datapads, but it was the easiest way to interact with the rest of the galaxy, which, for the most part, possessed manipulating digits. “The usual price has been added to your account.”

“Thanks for the business. They're all yours,” Corvek said, passing the muu the remote for the slaves' cuffs before he and Romnus strode away without a backward glance.

“Now then” the muu addressed the slaves in the same cool tone he had been using on the slavers. “If you will kindly step, one at a time, through the processing door, we can begin.”

“Excuse me-” Song was as surprised as the rest of them to hear her own voice fill the space. She was not supposed to speak to masters without being addressed if the matter was dire, and she certainly felt this was.

The muu hesitated, blinking lazily at her. His did not dismiss her out of hand so she pressed on. “Please, sir. Where are we?”

There was a faint shard of pride in his voice as he answered her. “You are aboard Transmisphere station.”

“The Transmisphere station?” Song's eyes grew wide. This was a horrible mistake! Panic flooded through her veins like ice water and her breathing came in pained gasps as though she too had been struck with the business end of a stun baton.

“The one and only,” answered the muu, dipping his head and gesturing again to the processing door. “The largest broadcasting station of it's kind. You've heard of it?”

“Yes sir,” Song replied, more out of habit than a desire to speak again.

“What's going on?” Five whispered, managing to bring head mouth near her ear as they jostled forward. Cale was still huddled over, seemingly oblivious to the world.

Song couldn't bring herself to answer Five as her feet began to move of their own accord towards the door with its ominous label. Five followed. He kept his head tilted so one pointed ear was cocked in Song's direction as she hissed over her shoulder, “this is the largest broadcasting station in the galaxy for The Game.”

“The what?”

There was no time to answer as the door snapped open on three female humans and a long hallway lined with doors. The women were clad in identical white uniforms and smiled in a way that Song was familiar with. The expression was purely decorative and did not reach any of their eyes.

“Please come with me,” said the young woman nearest Song, raising a hand to usher the her through the nearest of the new doors. The other women encouraged Cale, who was beginning to come out of his stupor, and Five, into similar openings father down.

Song felt a stream of sweat trickle down her spine, but she did as she was told. The white-clad too wore magnetic cuffs at her wrists and ankles. Perhaps, Song thought with a spark of hope, she would become one of these slaves. She would be perfectly skilled for such a role. Her mind hurriedly calculated how she might best convince her new masters of her talents and value as she was ushered into another white room with a shower at one end. Shelves, which matched the sterile walls, were barely visible beside it. Song's cuffs demagnetized and her hands were free.

“Please take off your old clothes,” the woman instructed.

Song began to strip without question. This was standard. Every master wanted their new slaves to be fresh, with no hints of grime or illness. Song handed the woman her jumpsuit and underthings, then she looked to the shower, anticipating her next instruction.

The water turned automatically and Song stepped under the strong jets. It was was not unpleasant, but smelled of chemicals. Her skin tingled with tiny pinpricks where each droplet struck. She rubbed her hands through her buzzed, black hair. In a moment the woman handed her a bar of soap. There was no curtain for the shower, but the other slave kept her eyes respectfully aimed at the floor. Masters thought slaves had no modesty. Song lathered her dark brown skin with the soft soap, noting a few paler freckles on her shoulders. Her body was lean and decently muscled, but certainly not as fit as the yard labor slaves back home. She worked hard, and would lift and carry, but her life was pampered compared to some. She hoped this didn't bode poorly for this next assignment, which she assured herself would be that of the woman who waited quietly for her to finish showering.

Song focused on keeping her expression blank and her eyes distant as she lathered and rinsed.

A few moments later the woman handed Song a towel. As Song dried herself she heard the distant sound of a man shouting. She didn't have to listen long to know it was Cale. She heard snippets of his voice through the door.

“I-WILL NOT TAKE OFF -- FUCKING CLOTHES! ARE YOU INSANE?”

Song winced.

“I heard the human male was not a slave previously,” the aid remarked in a monotone, turning to fetch new clothes from a shelf beside the door. Song's old garments were gone, but she didn't worry over them. She had long since learned not to value possessions because ultimately nothing was hers.

“Do you know where the slavers found him?” Song asked as a string of cussing echoed down the hall outside.

“No,” admitted the woman, helping Song to slip into tan, wide-legged cargo pants and a white, short sleeved shirt. Attached to the shirt were three belts that went around her ribs and buckled at the front. The woman secured them loosely. “Tighten if you need more support for your ribs,” she said. Song didn't like the sound of that. She couldn't help but notice she was not being dressed like the other woman. She was being dressed for something else, and she had a terrible hunch what it might be. “The man is very uncooperative,” the woman went on, passing Song supple, durable boots which came to her knees when she pulled them on. “I was glad when I was not assigned to him. Poor Patch. She has her work cut out for her.”

Song imagined the slave called Patch struggling with the unruly Cale. Would he try to hurt her? Part of Song wished she could watch the show. The other part of her was silently panicking, already sweating fit to stain her new shirt. She ached to ask this slave the one question which would spell out her fate, but she didn't. As if the answer might make the growing darkness tangible.

After Song was fully dressed the woman gave her a folded set of identical clothes and ushered her out of the shower room, down the hallway, and into another rounded room, as white as everything else.

The vissi, Five, had finished his shower first and waited for them in this final room. He was dressed in his species' equivalent of Song's attire. He blinked at her with wide, soulful eyes, as though she might have more answers.

Song hurriedly withdrew her gaze from Five's desperate one and assessed their new room. Three cots jutted from the rounded walls on one side and a circular table took up the center. There were nondescript footlockers at the end of each of the cots.

Song's hands shook and she was glad that she was still carrying the pile of her new clothes so no one would see. Her control was dangerously close to slipping. Closer than she could remember in all her adult life. I must be calm. No emotion. No sign of emotion... She clenched her jaw until it throbbed to keep her lips from trembling.

Five, no doubt sensing he wasn't going to get any help from Song, selected the cot farthest from the shower hall, sitting down and clasping his hands over his knees.

“Lights out is in ten minutes,” the woman in the doorway said, startling both slaves.

Song stepped stiffly into the room and claimed the cot nearest Five's as her own. She flipped open her footlocker and exhaled a shaky breath. It was reassuring to settle her new things, minimal as they were. She steadied her hands, if not her breathing.

The slave at the door looked on, benignly. Song hated this woman. This woman wasn't wearing the special uniform she and Five had been given. This woman knew her job and it didn't put her in harms way. Song envisioned herself pouncing the aid and pinning her against the wall, demanding to know what was going on. Instead she sat on her cot and folded her hands.

Cale burst, stumbling and swearing, into the room at last. He was still dripping and his clothing was wildly askew. His shirt was only half on and none of the buckles were done up. His bare feet slapped the floor as he carried his boots in an awkward pile with his extra clothes. Song cocked an eyebrow as she caught sight of an elaborate tattoo on his well muscled chest. His previous attire had not done the man any justice. Now that Song took in all of him she had to admit she was impressed. His skin was pale and muscles of every description rippled beneath. There was little need for a slave to be so well built, she mused as she watched him flail about, swearing and throwing punches at everyone and everything in range.

Two male slaves had been called in to help manage him. One was a naar, clad in the same white garb as the two humans. Being somewhat taller than Cale the naar managed to subdue the man long enough to shove him into the room with Five and Song. The door slammed shut behind Cale with finality.

The man sprang to his feet and threw himself at the door, smashing his fists and shoulders against it, dropping his armload with a clatter onto the floor. “Hey! Hey, you fuckers! Let me out of here! I don't belong here! I'm not a slave! I work for The Collective! Do you hear me? Heeeeey!”

“Human, please shut up,” groaned Five after Cale had ranted for several minutes without flagging.

Cale finally slid to his knees, leaning his head against the door, panting. “Fuck. What the fuck is this?” He asked, his voice raw.

“This is the Transmisphere,” Song answered, though he hadn't addressed his question to her specifically.

“And what is that?” Cale turned, levering his body around so he was sitting with his back against the door. He brought his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. Such a child-like posture for someone so imposing.

“One of the largest entertainment transmission stations in the D'thran system. Run by the muu of course, to broadcast some of their favorite programming.”

“It's a tele-broadcast station? For publishing movies?” Cale tilted his head. He had a wide jaw and soft blue eyes that were watery, either with pain or fear, Song wasn't certain.

“Movies?” Song asked.

Cale cocked a thick eyebrow, but pressed on past her confusion. “I suppose a better question would be: what are we doing here?”

Song swallowed. Five's focus settled on her like a weight. She dragged in a deep, shuddering breath, clasping and unclasping her fingers. “The muu have wide and varied tastes in entertainment. I've seen a lot of it, as a house slave. Everything from programs about music, to gardening, to learning programs... to this. I saw broadcasts from the Transmishpere a few times. They show exclusively one type of program, and it is by far the most popular.”

“Alright, but what does that have to do with us?” Asked Cale. “Are we supposed to be actors?”

Song shook her head stiffly. “The muu don't believe in actors. False emotion is distasteful. The program filmed here on this station... it's...a battle royale. Teams of fighters are placed into a holographic arena. It's different every time. The muu make bets, teams fall in and out of favor, it's wildly successful. People get hurt in these games. People get killed. It doesn't matter because they're all slaves.”

Cale didn't speak for a long moment. His eyes were like ice as they bored into Song, no longer gentle. She wished both of her new roommates would stop looking at her. She wanted to let her calculated facade slip. To allow the crushing panic that squeezed her heart to show on her face. She was too well trained to let these strangers see what terrors clawed her ribs, though her nails dug deep furrows into the pads of her palms.

Cale opened his mouth. Closed it. Tried again. “Slaves...? Like us?”

The floor lurched under her as breathless reality slammed into Song with a force she could not have anticipated. Her stomach clasped in a knot and in her throat had closed so she couldn't answer. Her fate slammed into Song like a meter into her unprotected body. Her heart thundered and she knew her veneer of calm must be eroding away. “Yes,” she finally said, her voice a little too clear, a little too loud. “Yes, slaves like us.”


	2. Yellow

Chapter 2  
Yellow

The lights went out. Soundlessly and abruptly, plunging Song and her new companions into utter darkness.

After a moment of sitting and blinking, trying to let her eyes adjust, she noticed that the table in the center of the room was beginning to glow faintly. She supposed that was something If she needed to get up during the night she wouldn't kill herself smashing into the meager furniture. Soon she could make out the shapes of the other two. Cale was still sitting against the door, peering through the gloom as though he expected to find some fatal flaw in the walls that might spell his freedom. Song hadn't known many non 'career slaves' but those she did had always been looking for an exit, even long after they'd been taken. Many of them wound up in bad situations because of repeated escape attempts. Was freedom so intoxicating that they would risk anything to try for it?

Five was still looking at her. Song raised her chin, meeting his gaze. His previously yellow eyes shone with an eerie ghost-light, reflected from the table. His scrutiny bored through Song to the wall behind her and she struggled not to flinch. “What?” she snapped, folding her arms defensively.

“Do you really think we're really here to fight in this 'Game'?”

Song cast her eyes to her lap as she clasped her hands so tightly her fingers ached. If she was right then near certain death awaited them. “I could be wrong.” She said, though her were devoid of conviction.

“The muu can't do this! This is illegal! They can't pit people against each other in some kind of death pit!” Cale yelled, too loudly. Without warning everyone's wrist cuffs snapped together. “Ow!” He gritted his teeth, rolling onto his side for a moment.

“Shut up, human,” Five warned. “This all might be illegal where you're from, but out here anything goes. There are no Collective ships patrolling this space and no one knows you're out here.”

“So... what? We fight until we die in these games?” Cale raised his cuffed hands, examining the smooth surface. The cuffs were rounded so they would not cut into the skin, but far too strong for any of them to have hope of wriggling free. Song had seen people uselessly break their wrists trying.

“Yes.” Song flopped onto her side on her cot and drew in her legs so she was laying in the fetal position. “From what I've seen the best fighters get special privileges. Better weapons, good food, all that. No one gets freed. No one escapes.” She aimed her last words pointedly at Cale.

“That you know of,” the man countered. She heard him stand and shuffle his way around the room, still searching for a flaw. There was another nearly invisible door outline at the opposite end of the room from the shower hallway. He kept moving and shortly found a button near the foot of Song's cot and pressed it excitedly, only to reveal a small washroom. “Well, I suppose that does answer one question.”

Song ground her teeth as she dug fresh furrows into her already pitted palms with her nails. In her mind's eye she could still see herself back home, safe and sound in her familiar slave barracks. This time of night she would have recently put her mistress to bed and finished her last few chores before settling in to relax and laugh with her fellow slaves. If the weather was fine they might sneak out to sit in the damp grass under the purple sky and watch the stars. She closed her eyes so she could better envision that world. It was difficult. Everything here smelled sterile and there were no sounds of the household or the lush jungle outside. Bright eyes should be chatting with her, coaxing a laugh. Maker would be setting up a game and the Trek arguing over who would play first. Now all she heard was the rustle of Cale scuffling about and everyone's anxiety breathing.

“When do you think we'll be dropped into the arena?” Cale asked after a long moment.

Song opened an eye in annoyance. “I have no idea. But you're not just dropped in. You have to find a team.”

“Do they assign teams?” Cale had done a full circuit of the room and seemed to be contemplating another pass.

“How should I know?” Song winced inwardly. Why was she still letting him draw her into talking?

“Because you're the only one who knows what's happening here. You know the muu. You saw a broadcast of this 'Game'.”

“All I saw were pieces of a few matches.” Pieces she wanted to forget. “Yellow team was losing, but then again, I got the idea that they usually do. Red Team was dominating and a Kulgar ripped someone else's head off.” Song mumbled, curling up tighter and nuzzling her cheek into the small, stiff pillow. 

She heard Five hiss at her words. She found her own mind replaying the scene she had witnessed. She had been playing with little Asla and another monsoon forced them to stay indoors. They played a game where the child would hide and Song's job was to seek. Song had been dutifully searching the house when she walked into one of the leisure rooms to find the adults enjoying a program on the large screen. Song had only been able to keep her eyes on it for a few moments. A small map in the lower corner showed multicolored dots which she guessed must represent the various players on each team. The main view had panned in from a wide shot to a close-up of a Red Team Kulgar snatching up a Yellow Team fighter and ripping the human's head clean off. All the muu cheered and Song had fled the room and tried to keep from losing her breakfast all over the floor.

Now all Song wanted was to turn over and face away from these two strangers to go to sleep, but she doubted her memories would let her. Plus she felt compelled to keep half an eye on Cale. He was putting her on edge with his constant motion.

Five too was scrutinizing Cale, large eyes narrow, thin mouth set in a line. “I've been in a lot of compounds, human, and this one is built better than all of those. I don't think you're going to escape.”

“You both can sit around feeling sorry for yourselves if you like,” growled Cale, running his fingers along the crack in the wall which outlined the second door. There was no internal handle and the crack was so thin Song doubted a piece of paper could be slid into it. She wanted to scold Cale as well, but kept her mouth shut. Mostly because she thought if she did open it, she might vomit.

“I'm going to sleep,” Five announced. “I suspect we'll have a taxing day tomorrow.”

“And if we die tomorrow?” Cale turned, glowering at Five in the dimness.

“Then that will be a very taxing day,” the vissi said, turning over on his bed and curling into a ball even tighter than Song's. She wondered how he could possibly be comfortable.

“What about you? You just going to sleep and hope you survive the morning?” Cale demanded of Song, once again trapping her with his pale blue eyes.

Song said nothing. Her mouth was tight, as though her jaw had locked shut. She schooled her face into an expressionless mask, the way she had taught herself to do over the years. The muu sometimes avoided human slaves, saying they were too emotional. Song had trained and worked daily to be the best she could be. Now it gave her a feeling of control to show nothing of her thoughts. These games could make her afraid, but they couldn't make her show it.

Cale watched her for a moment with brows knit, then let out a frustrated snarl and smashed his cuffed fists against the door. With a metallic snap all of their ankle cuffs came together. Song heaved a sigh. Five looked up, his displeasure palpable. “Stop making loud noises before they cuff us to the walls for the night!”

Cale groaned and flopped to the floor. He reminded Song of a child having a tantrum. Muu children were prone to those, especially if they were not being entertained well enough. She gritted her teeth all the harder until it sent little stabs of pain through her skull. This took her mind off of her situation for a few moments and she reveled in it.

Cale seemed to have tired himself out and crumpled down to sleep in a pile on the floor. Song wondered faintly if he's taken a blow to the head at some point as she allowed her own eyes to close, ignoring the pinching of the cuffs and the way they made her feet tuck together awkwardly.

Sleep, when it came, was filled with dreams of beheadings. She saw her muu family standing over her, cheering as a Kulgar in red armor with a white skull painted on the front, reached for her throat over and over again.

~~~~~

She had no concept of time through the night and when the light came on in the morning she woke with a jerk, nearly tipping off her cot. The lights turned on as they had turned off. With complete and unexpected abruptness. Song had to put up her hands to cover her eyes as the white walls reflected the light around her. In this motion that she noticed her wrist cuffs were no longer magnetized, and her ankles were free as well.

“Damn. I thought maybe this had been a dream,” came the glum voice of Five from across the room.

Song managed to peer between her fingers. Cale was still on the floor, though now he had moved to one side of the door, crouching with his back agaist the wall and a manic look in his eyes. “What-” Song asked, slowly pulling her hands from her face and blinking rapidly.

“Shhh,” Cale hissed, raising a finger to his lips.

Song rolled her eyes, then fixed her features back into their accustomed, dull mask. She stretched, glad of the freedom from her cuffs to do so. Her back was all in knots and her arms and legs felt as though she had been stuffed into a metal box that was too small for her. She cracked her neck back and forth, taking in a big breath before retreating to the washroom to splash water on her face from the sink, as well as relieve herself of a night's worth of urine.

Once she and Five had finished their minimal morning routines they returned to their cots, uncertain what was expected of them now. Song's stomach was a balled up fist in her gut. She hoped, disjointedly, that if they were going to die they'd be fed before hand.

She cut a glance at Cale who was still hunkered beside the door, ear pressed against the wall. Song cocked an eyebrow, but didn't comment.

After a moment of uneasy silence Song too heard noises from outside the door. She wondered what was beyond it and at the same time didn't want to know. Cale tensed.

Song arranged herself so that if her cuffs were reactivated it wouldn't hurt her. Five, watching, followed her example. The door snapped open in a blur. Cale reacted. He lashed out with a foot, striking the shin of the reeki who had just stepped inside. The guard, for that was clearly what he was, yelped and hopped backwards. The naar guard behind him laughed, whipping out his baton. The end sparked with electricity and even Song flinched away as the naar aimed it at Cale. “You have to watch these new ones, they're feisty.”

“Funk you, Mordo!” Snarled the reeki.

“Try it, human.” The naar was still aiming his electrified baton at Cale, who seemed to be warring with himself between trying for another attack, and avoiding a zap. The tall alien's keen eyes narrowed and his expressive ears lay back in warning. 

Cale gradually lowered his hands, which had been poised to throw punches, cutting his eyes downward, if only for a second. He slowly straightened to stand almost as tall as the naar. Song was tall herself, for a human female, but Cale still had a good few inches on her. He kept his posture subdued for the moment. “Look,” he said in a low voice to the naar, Mordo. “This is all a big mistake. I'm not a slave like them.” He jabbed his finger back in the direction of Five and Song. “I'm a pilot. I have papers... well, I did have papers until my kidnappers took them. I don't belong here.”

The reeki let out a flurry of click-laughter, stepping into the room to join his fellow guard. “You were captured by slavers, Mr. Pilot. That makes you a slave.”

“I was on a cargo haul for a company owned by The Collective. If I don't show up at my destination they'll-”

“Alright,” the naar shoved his feline face close to Cale's, sharp teeth bared. “I don't give a flying fuck what your employers will think. Caring about you is so far out of my job description I could probably get fired for doing it. Now move your ass out this door before I give a little tickle in the ribs with Mr. Zappy.”

Song peered apprehensively at 'Mr Zappy'. She and Five moved obediently towards the door, skirting wide around Cale, who was still glaring at the guards.

“Look at these two.” The reeki reached out with a primary arm and clasped the the back of Song's neck as she passed. Song stopped, every muscle tensing. As thought an iron rode had been jammed down her spine. She kept her expression as neutral as ever. Her eyes as dull as one already dead. Inside she was snarling and fighting free, but outwardly she was as docile as a doll. She wanted to punch the reeki in his smug face then, when he was down, kick him and never stop kicking. Instead she looked at the spot where the floor met the wall. “These two are career slaves. They know what's what. You should behave more like them.” The reeki released Song's neck with a jerk. She and Five hurried out the door, followed by a very sullen looking Cale.

The wide hallway that met them was crowded. Guards were everywhere, herding slaves wearing the same attire as Song and her companions. The slaves were of various species. Some humans, walking in a pack, venitressa, still managing to look regal even as they were prodded along by guards; hulking Kulgar, marched with one guard each. The vissi were shorter than most of the others so they wove easily in between in little clusters. Song caught the bright, rainbow hued skin of a vorethee out of the corner of her eye. It was an odd and alarming jumble with a far more hostile feel than back home, where all the species generally got along.

Song and her little bunch fell into step with the flow of those already in the corridor, allowing themselves to almost be carried along. Song spotted long windows lining one side of the hallway. They seemed to be on an outer ring of the spherical station and she hurriedly drank in the blackness of space, pocked with pinpoint stars and the flashes of passing ships. She had seen footage of the Transmisphere back home Three outer rings haloing the main, orb at the center. An orb which housed the 'area' and broadcasting rooms. She wasn't certain exactly how large the station was, but in this hallway alone she felt smaller than she ever had. Everyone moved around her as though she were nothing but a speck, a pebble to be trampled underfoot. She missed Bright Eyes and her home more achingly than ever.

They were herded onward into a massive and deafeningly noisy room. Song smelled food and her stomach flipped rebelliously. She was jostled from side to side as the slaves around her picked up their pace, obviously as eager as she was to enjoy a meal. At the near end of the room, whose walls were painted a dull tan, stood the food stations serving up meals for each species. Images of the various races stood above each station to indicate which was which. Song knew that naar needed drastically different diets from humans, for example. She didn't like to think about what the Kulgar ate, but she saw one stalk by with a tray topped with what looked to be a bare hunk of raw meat.

The rest of the room was taken up with neat rows of long metal tables flanked by benches. Slaves who had food in hand were already taking positions at various tables. They seemed to group together based on species and Song wondered if she would be expected to sit with the other humans. They looked like a rowdy bunch, shouting and snatching food from one another's trays. They moved together like a school of fish, shifting and swerving through the crowd of larger aliens with relative ease. Just looking at them made Song feel uncomfortable. If she was honest she had never felt completely at home with other humans.

She instinctively looked to the naar, who kept together as well, but their groups were much more akin to formations. Venitressa and Kulgar hove through the crowd separately, but clumped together with their own kind to eat. The Kulgar table was loud and watched over by several guards who all had their batons drawn. Well, Song mused, at least she knew where she would not be eating.

“Move along,” a guard commanded, shoving Song's shoulder. She did as she was bidden, shuffling her feet down the line. A tray was plopped into her hands and she followed the flow of humans to her meal station. She was given a square of something that she suspected was a fiber supplement, as well as well as a thick, grey protein paste. Beside this the server plopped a colorful fruit jelly before Song was moved along.

Once she was out of the queue Song froze, utterly alone in the fullest room she had ever been in. People bumped past her, nearly jostling the tray from her grasp. Each unexpected touch was like someone had jabbed her with a stun stick. She flinched away and desperately searched the room for safe haven. Even the vissi seemed intimidating. Their group was the smallest, but even its members had dark, haunted eyes and limbs crossed with scars. This was all wrong. She didn't belong here. She should have been sold to another household. She would have gladly cared for a hundred noisy, demanding muu children if she could just leave this hell. Now the smell of food was making her feel queasy.

She was considering dropping her tray and curling into a protective ball to wait for the meal to be over, when she spotted it. An empty table at the far end of the room. Everyone seemed to be avoiding it, which was exactly what she wanted. She rushed over to the table, sliding her tray to the end near the wall and tucking herself in. The wall was cool and reassuring and she leaned her stubbly head against it, getting her breathing under control. Around her the room thundered like a hurricane and she wondered how everyone managed to eat a meal here each day. Perhaps after time in the death arena this chaos seemed tame.

“Hello again.”

Song's head shot up as Five settled in on the other side of her at the table. His food was an odd clump of what looked like seaweed. At least it didn't seem to have an odor. Song straightened, looking Five up and down. “Wouldn't you rather sit with the other vissi?” She asked.

“They took one look at me and sent me packing. A few of them even laughed. One called me 'dead meat'” Five said, his tone casual as he prodded his meal with a fork. “You don't want to sit with the humans?”

“No.” Song said firmly. “I wasn't raised around humans. I'm not used to them.”

“Hmmm.” Five sampled some of the green, stringy 'food' from his tray. He chewed thoughtfully. “No flavor at all, but I suppose that might be a kindness.”

Song lifted an eyebrow. The vissi seemed much more collected than she felt. As though he had processed the situation overnight and fully resigned himself to it. Well, she mused, because of their short lifespans vissi probably had to deal with things quickly. She wondered how old Five was. She suspected that he was not even as old as she. Human middle age was supposedly the end of a vissi's lifespan.

“This place is insane.” Cale slid in on Song's side of the table, looking around like a baffled child.

“What are you doing here?” Song asked, turning to face him.

“Why wouldn't I sit here?” Cale seemed genuinely confused by her reaction.

“All the other humans are over there,” she gestured to the table. The humans had their heads together, sharing in some secret.

“Oh. I guess I didn't notice,” Cale shrugged.

Song doubted he could have failed to notice the way things were segregated, but she said nothing more. She picked up her fiber block and dipped it in her fruit paste. Together they were not completely unpleasant.

“Is this the new Yellow Team?” A new voice asked.

Song looked up from her meal to see a muu in white robes with gold trim standing with two surly looking guards.

“What?” Cale blinked at the strangers.

“Shut up, human!” One of the guards snapped, striking Cale across the face with the butt of his baton and almost smashing him into his tray.

Cale looked fit to leap up and fly at the guard but Song grabbed his sleeve. He met her eyes and she fixed him with a steady look. He settled, prodding the inside of his mouth with his tongue, checking for loosened teeth.

The other guard looked over the three slaves with an amused eye. “It would seem so.” she answered the muu.

Song was confused. Yellow Team? She knew Yellow Team had been the one that got defeated the day she had watched the program back at home. She had suspected Yellow Team to be the weakest. The whipping boy of all the other teams. What did the muu mean, 'were they the new Yellow?' 

Her heart plummeted. She had not noticed it before, but above every table, high on the wall, were plaques. Each plaque depicted a creature painted in the color of what Song now knew represented the various teams.

There was a red plaque above the Kulgar table, blue with the venitressa, green over the humans and grey for the vissi. What few vorethee there were did not seem to have their own plaque, but instead were the only species interspersed amongst the rest. Most teams had at least one.

Finally, Song cautiously tilted her head up and saw the plaque above their table. It depicted an animal painted in yellow, with what appeared to be a shell, as well as four stubby limbs with sharp claws. The creature was rolled onto its back, limbs in the air. It looked pathetic and Song felt her stomach drop, the food inside turned to lead. Her mouth went chalk dry.

“Well,” the muu was smiling; at least, Song could tell he was. She doubted even the guards knew. “Let us hope you do better than the previous Yellow Team.” He turned abruptly and walked away, flanked by his guards who parted any remaining crowd from him. Song judged by his gold trimmed garb that this muu had been one of the game officials. Someone important and in charge. Perhaps she should have pleaded her case before he inevitably became distracted and moved on, but she had been to stunned by her damning realization.

“What does this mean?” Asked Five in a desperate whisper, looking to Song.

Irritation prickled in Song's chest. “How the hell should I know?”

“You know more than the two of us,” Cale pointed out, taking a small bite of his protein mush and wrinkling his nose.

“Well, I don't know about this,” she said, folding her arms, unable to manage another bite. She didn't even want to look at the food.

“By sitting here we've declared ourselves members of some team, I suspect,” Five mused, looking up to the creature painted on the wall. “And I assume by Song's expression that this is a bad thing to be.”

“Can we change it?” Asked Cale, clearly taking his first interest in the human table.

Song wondered if the humans would take her if she begged. All of the other teams had so many members, how were she and these two supposed to survive for more than two minutes against them? As much as she every instinct told her to run she was frozen, her mind locked itself down tight.

“Well...” Five said, also not moving, “seeing as we seem to be one team now, for certain, perhaps we should discuss our skills? F-for the arena?”

“Skills?” Song scoffed. “I know how to entertain rowdy children, what about you?”

Five blinked at her a few times, then moved on to Cale, who seemed to consider for a moment. “I can use a variety of firearms and I can fly just about anything I get my hands on.”

“There are no space ships in the areas,” Song cut in. Of course, she had no way to be sure of this. She had not seen enough of The Game to know, but she didn't care. She clenched her jaw, picking at a spot with her tongue where a bit of grit from her meal had gotten lodged between two molars. She watched Cale distrustfully out of the corner of her eye. Had he been trapped by indecision as well? Was that why he was still with them instead of cozying up to the Green Team?

“I can do a little hand to hand,” Cale went on. He looked down for a moment, “not well, but I can do it.”

Five chuckled faintly. They were all three remembering Cale's failed attempts to fight back against his guards. Five cleared his throat and Song looked up through her lashes. “I might have a few talents that could come in handy.”

Song thought of cutting in with a remark about the skrawny, physically unimpressive specimen that was Five, but she kept her mouth clamped. After all, the vissi here looked identical to him, and they seemed to have a successful team. Instead she watched as Five extended a hand over his tray. Song's eyes slowly widened as a sparkling, splintered light formed a hexagonal bubble around Five's fork, raising it into the air.

“Y-you can use prism?” Song stammered.

“Yes,” Five gingerly lowered the fork. “Its extremely rare in vissi and I don't broadcast it. None of my slavers knew I could do it at all.”

“Hell,” said Cale, eyes gleaming, “Why not use that to escape?”

Five looked at him confusedly. “My skill is very precise, but not powerful. Any of the venitressa over there could float an entire person in the air, but they would have trouble with something like a fork. I can do the small, skillful stuff. Not as good for escaping. Nothing compared to the muu, so I've heard.”

“I beg to differ!” Cale said, eying Five like he'd just discovered a savior. “You could pull a weapon from a sheath or snatch the remote for our cuffs right out of someone's hand!” He raised his wrist, waggling the deactivated metallic cuff for emphasis.

“So I grab the weapon from one of my guards, then what?” Five twitched long fingers and the prism coiled around Cale's tray, lifting it a few inches then letting it fall, splattering the human's shirt with protein paste.

“You give it to me,” Cale said, swatting at the front of his shirt.

“Then you can both be disabled by the other guards,” smirked Song, watching with one eyebrow raised, allowing herself that small expression.

“You're insane, human,” Five shook his head at Cale, “If I can have your attention back from all your crazy schemes for a moment, I want to figure out how to live here, now, today. Let me to show you this-” The vissi rested his elbow on the table, arm straight up. A look of concentration came over his features and as Cale and Song gaped, his hand slow vanished. Beginning at the fingers and fading down to his knobbly wrist. There was only the faintest tingle in the air, like static electricity.

“Damn,” Song exhaled, impressed. She knew she was doing nothing to hide her surprise, but she had never seen anyone make their hand disappear before. She instinctively reached out to where his hand should be and her fingers contacted with his skin.

Five chuckled, “yes, my hand is still there, you just can't see it. I use prism to bend the light just so...”

Cale leaned forward, his expression wild and eager. “How much of yourself can you hide?”

Five frowned. The prism energy crackled in the air and his arm vanished down to his elbow. He set his mouth in a tight line, fixing a stern glare at Cale, “It takes a great deal of concentration and energy, but I can make myself completely invisible for a short time.”

“What?!” Cale gasped, bouncing to his feet. Several guards looked in their direction.

Song reached over and grabbed Cale's muscular arm, yanking him back into his seat. He looked at her with disbelief written on his features. “Do you realize what this means? We know someone who can make themselves invisible! Invisible! That's our ticket out of here!”

“Please, say it louder, I don't think the Kulgar team heard you,” hissed Song, between gritted teeth.

“Can you please keep yourself under control?” Asked Five, his hand reappearing. “I'm already regretting showing you. All I will be using my abilities for is survival at this point. If Song is correct and we get sent into an arena, I won't be escaping anything. I never let my slave handlers know I had any abilities, I'm not about to start flaunting them now. I just figured, since we seem to be on the same team...”

Cale looked fit to argue, but Song dug her nails firmly into his bare forearm. “Ow! Hey! You are an angry little thing aren't you?”

Song had never considered herself to be angry, or a 'little thing' for that matter, but a stab of temper threatened to surface past her carefully calculated mask. She wished she knew why Five and Cale had stayed. Surely they understood that they didn't stand a chance in the arena without a powerful team to protect them. Perhaps it was merely because they'd been thrown together in a slave hold. How strong could the bond of a single night be? Whatever the reason, an odd gratitude was also welling under her surface.

“Team Yellow, what is going on over there?” A guard strode towards them, hand resting on his sheathed baton.

Song let Cale's arm go and settled back into her spot, the very image of someone who had been innocently enjoying their meal. Five too managed to look deeply uninteresting. Cale, on the other hand, glowered at his food as though considering tossing it at the guard.

The naar raised his chin. He his tan skin was marked with stripes and two horns curved majestically from above his brow, following the curve of his head and ending in perfect points. Unlike the naar slaves, his head was unshaved, and he wore his dark hair long and held back in a neat tail. He wore no tattoos or piercings and Song wondered if he was from a colony. Why did he lord around as a guard while he brethren fought in the arena? “Are you going to be a problem for me, Yellow? Because I deal with Kulgar on a regular basis so a human like you isn't going to make me break a sweat. You've got so many soft bits.” The naar's teeth flashed in their version of a smile.

Cale looked ready to answer and Song began weighing her options for when he did. On the one hand she could pretend she had nothing to do with the idiot man beside her and try to eat a little more of her food before it was all over. On the other hand she was sitting at this table with him, which apparently made them teammates. It probably wouldn't be much use to have Cale enter the arena freshly injured. Just as she prepared to reach for his arm again there was a sound so loud it rattled their food trays. The exploding BZZZZZT of a static-muddled buzzer blared through speakers in each corner of the room.

Song twisted in her seat, watching the other teams for their reaction. Each stood up beside their tables, forming straight lines along either side. “Red, you're favored today, so Green, you're in first.” A muu was stalking down the center isle between the tables. Song knew this one to be a female, and she was directing each team in turn. Green Team dog-trotted out of the room in two lines, heading out through a wide door at the far end of the dining hall, near the Yellow table.

Song swallowed as the venitressan team jogged by. They were grey skinned and intimidating, with wide-set eyes and small mouths. Both males and females were powerfully built, not differing in stature as dramatically as humans. Not that they needed the muscle, as the venitressa were powerful prism users, almost as strong as the muu. What appeared to be thick ropes of hair bounced against their necks, but in reality they were tentacles. These would thrash and flare out when the species flexed their prism abilities. Song had only met a few venitressa . They tended to be willful and difficult to keep as house slaves. They were also hard to capture and had to be taken and indoctrinated young. Considering they lived well into the triple digits, this was a challenge in itself.

The guard who had been talking to Cale looked expectantly at them. “Well, Yellow, let's go.” He took out his baton and waved them on with it. Song had hoped that if she and her little 'team' remained sitting in their corner perhaps they'd be forgotten, but it was clear that the arena awaited them as well.

Song stood, bizarrely struck by the notion that she should tidy away her tray before leaving. She was about to die, and she knew it, but her training was deeply ingrained. She touched the table with her fingertips as she stood, as though her hand were trying to remember what something solid and real felt like before she was tossed into the twisting unknown.

On the other side of the big doors was another corridor, this one wide and curving. The walls were lined with lockers and shelves. Slaves in white were helping the teams prepare as guards looked on. Red Team brought up the rear, taking up a great deal of room behind Song and her three comrades. Song's chest was unbearably tight, and her breath came in short gasps. Her eyes darted seeking any escape, no matter how unlikely, but she knew there would be no getting past Red Team and their plentiful guards. Or perhaps she had been hoping that there were more members of Yellow Team hiding out someplace and it wouldn't be her and two strangers pitted against experienced murders. No helpful warriors stepped forward to stand with Song and her little company. She clasped her shoulders and shrank into herself, her only solace, her ability to keep her face blank.

A human slave came up to them carrying metal arm bands with a thick line of florescent yellow glowing faintly on them. Even Cale didn't bother raising a fuss as the band was snapped to his bicep. It adjusted automatically to fit. The slave placed armbands on Song and Five, then the young man held out three clear tubes filled with florescent orange goo. When no one took them he rolled his eyes. “This is Nanogel. You each get one per arena day. I suggest you take them.”

Song reached out automatically, opening her shaking hand to let the canisters clack together on her palm. They were about the right size to clasp in a fist. The slave explained as Song passed a tube each to her group. “To apply it topically you take the canister on both hands... or one hand and your mouth if one of your limbs is incapacitated, snap the canister in half and apply the gel with your fingers.”

“Wait, I've seen this,” Cale said, his ashy face brightening marginally. “Nanites, right? This was invented by the Venitressi and we recently converted it on earth to work for our physiology. The nanites enter your body and repair injures or kill tumors, then they die and you pass them harmlessly.”

The slave rolled his eyes. “These will work with any species. To inject the gel, twist the metal ring around the canister and the needle will pop out of the end.” He plucked another canister from his large collection and demonstrated.

“Can we keep these after the fight?” asked Cale, holding his Nanogel up to his eye and peering at the bright ooze in the tube.

The slave gave Cale a look which spoke of how deeply he doubted anyone on Yellow Team would make it out alive. “You return any unused Nanogel here at the end of each competition, but they will be cataloged for your use the next time you come in, so you may accumulate them for your team's use in the arena.”

“Great,”Cale said, obviously trying to sound confident. He might have succeeded if his voice hadn't pitched high at the end.

Song found that the belts around her top had little loops that were perfect for holding the gel canisters, so she tucker hers in where she could easily reach it.

“Why do some of them get weapons?” Cale asked, standing taller to look around at the other teams. Some where being handed a startling array of blades or clubs, as well as fitting armor over their uniforms.

“They earned them,” the slave answered tersely before walking on to help prepare Red team.

“You're unluckier than most.” Another guard spoke. He was a short human who leaned disinterestedly against a nearby wall, watching them with heavy lidded eyes.

“Oh yes?” Five asked with a shaky intake of breath.

The guard cast a baleful glance over Yellow Team and grimaced. “Your first day here and you're in the arena already, plus you're on this team. Yeah. I'd say you have a special brand of bad luck.” The man cocked his head as a buzzer sounded, this one quieter than the one in the dining hall, but it still got everyone's attention.

The mood in the room shifted from one of noisy anticipation to coiled eagerness. As though an invisible wire had been drawn taught through the body of each fighter until they all stood rigid. Cale swallowed visibly and muttered to his companions. “Do you suppose this is it?” His eyes were too wide. Almost all of the manic energy Song had seen the night before were gone from them. Almost all. There was still a spark, and wild defiance she could spot a mile away. It marked him as an inexperienced slave, and here, perhaps as a target.

She looked from Cale, as wan and unsteady as she felt, to Five, with his hands clasped together to try to hide their shaking. Song was about to die with these two strangers because they'd all been given matching armbands? But then, both strangers had stayed at the table with her when they should have cut and run, should have begged to be allowed onto another team. She suspected they regretted this now, but they had stayed, and they were still standing with her. Huddled and shaking, but standing. 

Five spoke, his tone cutting. “No, Cale, this isn't 'it'. We're going to be given treats and allowed to enjoy a pleasant day.”

It was those snarky words that finally cracked Song's stoic exterior, with a smile of all things. It startled her, but she didn't have time to rearrange her disobedient features as a door at the far end of the preparation room opened and teams began to march through. “You never know,” she said, her voice shuddering with each ragged breath. “We might survive.”


	3. Until Death

Chapter 3  
Until Death

The inexorable march began towards what Song could only assume was the arena, and her waiting dismemberment. She glanced from side to side at the lockers they passed, wondering if she could grab a breastplate or maybe a sword. From what she understood the players were seldom given projectile weapons, as this was considered unfair. Song knew that in reality projectiles just made fights less interesting to watch. She did spot one of the naar ahead of her wearing a bow slung across his shoulder, but that was it.

“Five, if you go invisible right now you could make a break for it,” Cale was whispering to the vissi.

“There are guards everywhere,” Five answered between gritted teeth.

As Song shuffled, pressed forward by the guards. a numbness crept into her limbs. Years of faithful service and her family had sold her to be slaughtered for their entertainment. Would they be watching this match? Would the little girl she had raised cheer her on to her brutal beheading?

Song hadn't realized that the prep room was dimly lit until she stepped out into the 'arena'. The logical part of her mind knew that the lush landscape stretching before her, complete with grass, trees, and a shining river cutting through it, were just a hologram. Still, when a breeze touched her cheek she felt the numbness lift a fraction. This forest wasn't like the jungles back home with their thick, colorful plant-life. The trees here stood farther apart and there only seemed to be a forest floor and a canopy, but it still felt like stepping into a sweet memory. She hesitated, but a guard shoved her with the dull end of his baton. “Yellow, you start over there. Follow Ric.”

Ric, the dreary eyed guard who had called them unlucky, sauntered over and gestured them on with supreme disinterest.

As Yellow Team followed like obedient pets, Song could hear Cale swearing quietly. Song coulnd't help but look around. She had never been in a holographic environment this complex before, but she had used smaller versions to entertain Asla back home. The little girl had loved to go outdoors, but when the weather was poor, which usually meant hurricanes, the two would retreat to a tiny room with a somewhat outdated 'day in the park' holo-program to spend the day running and playing.

It wasn't until Song's gaze landed on Five that she realized what true amazement looked like. He touched a tree, eyes huge, small mouth slightly agape. He might have been alone for all the attention he paid to his fellows now. Had he spent his life aboard ships, so that the outdoors, even a false one, was astounding to him? Five tripped repeatedly on the uneven terrain, and Cale had to catch him more than once.

“Here.” Ric stopped in a shady grove, pointing at a spot on the ground with his baton.

Song approached. Standing out from a bed of black moss were several flat, circular, metal plates. Perhaps twelve in total that she could see. Each plate had a glowing ring of yellow around its edge.

“Step on.” Ric instructed. He was chewing gum and folded his arms, not even bothering to threaten them with his baton. “The parameters of today's will be announced, so pay attention to that. It won't be repeated,” Ric drawled. “Step off the ring before the game starts and that's a penalty.”

“What does a penalty do?” asked Cale, tapping one of the metal plates with his foot before stepping gingerly on.

Ric heaved an exasperated sigh. “For most people it means a weapon or piece of armor gets taken away, or a key player is removed from the match. For you-” he patted his baton meaningfully.

Song stepped onto one of the plates. The yellow lights glowed more brightly.. She tried to swallow, but it was like she'd downed a cup of glass shards. Her heart thundered an no amount to trying to steady her breathing could calm it. She wasn't certain she could even get her stoic mask back into place. She knew she must look as panicked as her companions and for once she didn't care. They'd all be dead soon anyway. If only she could bring herself to accept the inevitable this would all go much more smoothly, but her blood still thundered with a desire to live. 

She shot a glance towards Cale, the most likely one to bolt. He seemed to understand how utterly foolish it would be and held his ground, his skin white as the walls of the little sleeping room they'd never see again. Even Five's invisibility couldn't save the vissi because eventually he would grow too tired to keep it up. Five looked lost to the world now he stood, stiff and staring, on his little platform. All of this must be doubly terrifying to someone who had never even seen a tree before. 

Distantly Song heard movement through the trees and she guessed this must be another team being taken to their starting position. She wondered which it was.

“Blue,” said Ric as though he had read her thoughts.

venitressa, she mused. Probably not interested in killing Yellow Team right away... Could she and her companions manage to hide for the entire game and come out unscathed? This twisted, frustrating hope kept weaving into her thoughts, wheedling a pleading with her to think of a way they might live.

A loud crackling sound snapped Song from her revery and a voice boomed in over a loudspeaker lodged somewhere in the false sky. Song tilted her head back to listen, scanning the holographic clouds that scudded lazily over lush trees.

“Welcome everyone!” A muu voice with far more joviality than Song was used to rang out. “Today's game is: Ring Capture! I'll explain the game for those watching at home. This is an objective based game where the winning team must be the one that finds and secures the golden ring hidden somewhere in this forest! They must return this to their base camp in order to be victorious.”

“Base camp,” Ric mouthed, gesturing to the metal plates on which Song and her companions stood.

The voice went on. “There will be ten points awarded per player kill. Fifteen for non-lethal wounds. The winning team will receive twenty points per player.” There was a popping sound and the voice fell silent. Now the only thing Song could hear was the synthesized wind through the trees and the slightly metallic twitter of recorded birdsong.

Above them, where Song guessed the middle of the domed ceiling must be, a red light appeared, accompanied by an abrupt 'BONG!'

“Good luck,” said Ric, turning to stroll away, hands in his pockets. He paused to remove one and wag a finger at Song and company. “Remember now, don't step off those platforms until the match starts.” The guard picked up his pace to an easy jog and he took out through the trees the way they had come.

Song looked to her companions. Five was shaking visibly and his inky skin was going grey. His eyes were wide and unblinking, oval pupils smaller than Song had ever seen, and he didn't seem to register anything around him any more. Gone was his previous enchantment with trees and moss. It was replaced with apparent catatonia.

Cale appeared marginally calmer, though admittedly that wasn't difficult. His impressive muscles were tensed, as though the moment he was released into the arena he planned to make a break for it. For where?

Song wondered if she should brace to run as well. Weren't going to stick together? Maybe it was safer to split up. It would be more difficult to track them all down seperately.

BONG! The light in the sky turned yellow.

Song scanned the arena, really seeing it for the first time. They had been placed in a more closely wooded area than where they had entered. Song could not see any hint of another team through the trees and underbrush. Whoever had designed this map had done well to strategically place trees which obscured the teams from one another and made the space seem larger than it was. Song surmised that every arena would be different, though she would probably never survive to find out for certain. She quickly scanned the underbrush, but saw no sign of wildlife, fake or otherwise. She couldn't see that river from before, but she suspected she knew approximately where it was, and she could also hazard a guess about Blue Team.

“Do we have a plan?” asked Cale, his voice tight and painful sounding. Song wondered if he too was feeling like someone had forced his mouth open and poured hot lead down his throat.

Song's lips parted, as though she was going to speak. Before words could decided whether or not they wanted to be free of her, the 'BONG' sounded again and the light in the sky turned green, then vanished.

“Was that... are we supposed to-?” Cale spluttered, uncertain, balancing forward on the balls of his feet like a huge, awkward bird waiting to take flight.

“I think so.” said Song, but she too remained where she was. Perhaps if she never left her platform she wouldn't have to participate.

Cale hesitated, then lifted one foot from his platform and hovered it just above the grass. With meticulous slowness, he settled it on the ground. There was no reaction but trees rustling and the sound of unconvincing birds. “I think we're alright.”

Song gingerly placed one of her own feet on the ground, almost hoping that a guard would appear. That would mean the battle had not begun. Shouting in the distance caught her attention and her head snapped up. She planted her foot firmly, ready to bolt. “We need to... we should go.” she managed to choke as her heart turned into a bird, fluttering around in her chest, trying aggressively to break free.

“Right,” said Cale. He surged off of his platform. Darting for a thicker group of trees. He stopped as he realized no one was following him. “What?” He spun to look at Song, a fresh wildness in his eyes.

“I-” Song wasn't certain what held her. Fear? Confusion? Her stubborn desire to imagine none of this was happening?

“We can't stay here!” Cale called, hunching low and scanning his surroundings like a suspicious prey animal. “The other teams might know where everyone's bases are and with Blue is so near us we'll probably be picked off as easy targets. Let's go!”

Song knew he was right, and if she'd been able to manage words she would have said the same. With a firm shake of her head, certain she heard useless brain matter rattling around in there, Song forced her legs to move and jogged towards Cale. She passed Five on her way and when he made no move, not reacting to her at all, she grabbed the spindly wrist and dragged him along.

As they reached the trees she shot a glance over her shoulder and her eyes went wide. Blue team, the venitressa team, was trotting into view not twenty yards from them, perhaps even sending scouts to check Yellow's starting location with quick, practiced glances. Song yanked Five behind a tree, then dropped to her knees behind another, glad that her vissi friend was slim.

“Nothing here.” Song heard one of the venitressa, who had broken from the pack and stood over the metal plates on the ground. “I doubt they got far.”

Song wasn't certain she was breathing anymore, but her heart was pounding so fast her chest felt ready to crack open. She hunkered lower, muscles tensed to run, fingers digging into the sod, though she guessed any attempted flight would be futile. These people were fit, armed and experienced prism users and she was a clueless slave trained to speak multiple muu dialects.

“L'lia, come on!” One of the other venitressa called, waving the first speaker on. “Red team will find at the ring while we're chasing after rodents!”

“Right,” L'lia said. Song strained her ears, back pressed into the tree's rough bark. She didn't dare lean around the trunk to see if Blue Team was gone until she hadn't heard a footstep in several minutes. The venitressa weren't afraid, Song thought, eying the path of their retreat as she let her heart settle as best it could. They ran in the open, not bothering to disguise their numbers, movements, or clothes. Even their grey skin stood out. Song glanced down at herself, her shirt already straining with sweat and dotted with bit of bark. Perhaps she and her friends could survive this, if they were clever enough, she thought.

Song's heart juttered to a more reasonable pace and she wiped sweat from her face with a shaking hand. She looked at her companions. Cale was laying on his belly, peering out from behind a rock. Five was where she had left him, motionless and catatonic behind his tree. “I think...” Song began, taking a few more shaking breaths, “I think we need to find a way to hide ourselves. The other teams will be focused on each other and the ring. If we keep our heads down we might just live through this.”

Cale looked at her intensely for a moment, then a thin smile lifted his lips. “You can be optimistic. I knew it!” He said in a gravely whisper.

Song glowered at him, then artfully settled her face back into its neutral expression. It came more easily than she expected after the last few moments of panic.

“How do you do that with your face?” Cale asked trying to imitate, letting his eyes go distant. A muscle in his cheek twitched.

“Practice,” said Song, using her most level, unfeeling tone.

“Eery,” Cale mumbled, his own expression returning to a fiercely determined one. Every bit as wild as when she had first seen him. “I like your idea, especially the part about us surviving.”

Song nodded and pushed herself away from her tree. “Right. I saw a river as we were coming in. Where there's a river there's mud.” She looked down at herself. The bright white t-shirt was doing her no favors. Neither was Cale's pale complexion, nor Five's jet black skin for that matter.

“Are you sure we want to go that far? What if we just hide out right here and wait for it all to be over?” asked Cale, though he had already gotten to his feet.

Song faltered. Cale was looking at her expectantly and she had no idea why her opinion suddenly mattered. “You might be right, but I don't know how close we are to the other teams. We saw the venitressa, but for all we know another of the team might be ready to stumble onto us.”

“No, you're right, we can't risk staying,” Cale nodded curtly, striding up to stand beside Song. “What about him?” He jabbed a thumb towards Five.

Song moved to Five's side and snapped her fingers in his face. He blinked automatically, but looked didn't look at her or otherwise respond. His mouth hung slack and he stared at Song as though she wasn't there. “Five? Five, come on! We need the whole team working on this. Come on!” she risked clapping her hands once.

“Whole team?” asked Cale, folding his arms and cocking an eyebrow.

“They put these bands around our arms, they made us a team, we might as well use it,” Song said even though the thought made her skin itch like she wanted to crawl out of her own body and slip away. Putting herself in charge of the safety of two other people didn't feel like her wisest idea, yet as she looked into Cale's hopeful eyes and took in Five's rigid panic, she knew she couldn't leave them. In them she saw the faces of her old friends back home. She saw Flower, another young woman who had come to the compound terrified and barely trained, looking tearfully to Song for help. Bright Eyes, so fierce and determined, asking Song to adventure with her. Song could never abandon any of them. Hopefully Cale and Five would feel the same way about her.

Cale watched her intensely as she hesitated, grasping Five's scrawny upper arms. She could practically feel the other humans expectation and fear bore into her like a laser. She kept her features and movements muted, knowing he couldn't read her. His thick brows came together, forming a little crease between them. “What if we can't snap him out of it? Should we leave him?”

Song took one of Five's long fingered hands and rubbed it vigorously between hers. She wasn't certain why. “Do you want to leave him?”

“No.”

“Then we won't. At my old home we slaves always stuck together. The masters were kind, but they weren't our friends. Your only true ally was the slave who worked beside you.”

“That's... more touching than I expected from you.” Cale joined her on Five's other side. “I'm sorry, buddy,” he said, before bringing a fist back and smashing it into Five's bony shoulder.

The vissi, all long limbs and awkwardness, nearly toppled onto Song, who caught him as best she could. Five blinked, his eyes finally taking in the world around him, pupils contracting back to a normal size. “What? Ow! Where?” He blurted loudly, rubbing his freshly punched arm.

“Shh!” Song hissed, touching a fingertip to his mouth.

They all stood for a moment in panicked stillness, listening for any sign of other teams. No new sounds met their ears. Song and Cale gave Five an overview of their simple plan. When the vissi gave to argument, they lit out for the river, moving as quickly and stealthily as they could. Song knew instantly that none of them were experts in moving silently, and she could only hope the other teams were too busy fighting one another to notice all the loudly snapped twigs and rustling ferns.

Five was once again both enthralled and intimidated by the landscape. He gaped like a child at the trees, the grass, every plant that caught his eye, while simultaneously flinching away from them as though they might be poisonous.

Song kept a constant ear open for possible attack. Only a very distant sound of shouting fighting could be heard, carried on the wind, which Song suspected was created by large fans. Once she was sure she heard running water and changed their route accordingly. She hoped she wasn't leading her companions straight into a waiting ambush. For all she knew any of the other teams had concealed themselves; perhaps the humans for the vissa, as they were not as physically imposing, and might be hiding out in the trees, ready to drop on unwary victims.

Song and her companions broke from the underbrush to the bank of the river. She wasn't certain how holographic mud worked, but she reasoned that if she could hide behind a tree, she could conceal her shirt. After giving the relatively open landscape a cursory glance Song and company slipped from the long grass to the pebbly water's edge.

All three knelt on the bank, grabbing up greedy handfuls of the gritty muck. It struck Song that this stuff didn't have a smell. It was oddly disconcerting as she spread the goo over her chest.

Once Song's shirt, pants, and some of her skin for contrast, were well coated, she retreated from the bank back into the weedy cover of the woods. The three had avoided open areas like this on their way to the river, and she felt too exposed now.

Five followed shortly behind Song, also sufficiently doused in grime. Only his yellow armband stood out. Song looked down to see that the mud had refused to stick to her own armband, and the yellow light that designated her team shone as keenly as ever. She wondered if it would glow brighter if she tried to put a strip of cloth over it, or wrap a long leaf around it. She guessed this was to keep people from disguising the team they were on, for the fairness of The Game. As if fairness mattered when people like her could be thrust into battle without warning or preperation.

“Hurry up, Cale,” Song whispered between gritted teeth, too quietly for the other human to hear.

The man was taking longer than his companions, having to not only cover his shirt, but most of his skin as well. More than any of them he stood out like a beacon against the green and shadow.

Movement on the other side of the river caught Song's eye and her breath hitched as he realized too late what danger they were in. A naar, exceptionally tall and lean for one of his kind, slipped from the cover at the river's other side. His green armband showed brightly and he wore a mismatch of body-armor. Worst of all, in his hands rested a loaded bow.

Five's long fingers closed over Song's shoulder. At first Song thought the vissi was holding her back from doing something stupid, but then she felt a static tingled across her skin. She looked down. Half of her body was gone. She gave a little squeak and Five dug his fingers painfully into the muscles of her shoulder to urge silence.

Cale had noticed the naar now. His body went noticeably tense as he crouched on the riverbank, hands balling around fistfuls of mud. The naar drew back his bow with deadly smoothness, but hesitated before firing, watching Cale with an unreadable expression on his face. Why hadn't he shot, Song wondered, trying not to look down at what remained of her body. Five's arm up to his shoulder was gone, and the invisibility was creeping up his neck to his face with jagged little shards. His breathing was tense and labored in her ear.

The naar continued to consider Cale, blinking small eyes set in dark facial markings. Was it fear, Song read on his face, or perhaps pity? Song knew a decent amount of naar body language thanks to Bright Eyes and something was definitely distressing the young naar. One of his large, cupped ears flicked back and he shot a glance up and down the river. He must have known the rest of Yellow Team was hiding, but just as certainly knew that Yellow only had three inept members and no weapons.

The naar shifted his weight from foot to shoot, bow still drawn. If Song was any judge he was her age, perhaps younger, and gangly. He was a four-horn, smaller points jutting from behind his ears blow the first set of larger, elegantly curved horns on his brow. Though his were perhaps too long, to match his scraggly limbs. Song shook her head, which she knew must also be invisible by now. This attacker was giving her time to come up with a plan and instead she was making judgments about his appearance. Maybe if they charged at the bank, all three of them, they could scare him off. By his nervous movements and constantly swiveling ears Song felt certain that he was alone. She and Five could make for a terrifying sight, both of them partially visible, just floating limbs in midair. She leaned into Five, her shoulder pressing into his invisible chest. “Can you move and do this?”

“No,” Five hissed back, his voice full of strain.

“Can we try anyway?”

Before Song could hear Five's answer Cale seemed to have decided that he was on his own because he stood up, arms raised. “Hey, friend, I don't want to cause you any trouble. You've got a ring to find and I'm just a lowly nobody out here. Why don't we both go our own way and forget we ever saw one another?”

“I...” the naar spoke haltingly. “I can't. If I see someone on another team and I can take the shot I have-have to. For the points. Orders.”

“Naw, hey, I understand, but I'm sure your teammates just meant you're supposed to shoot armed and dangerous enemies. Not harmless ones like me.”

“It's the same points,” said the naar, more firmly than before. He raised his bow to his cheek, any trace of awkwardness gone.

“No!” gasped Song, lurching out of the bushes, breaking free of Five's grasp and becoming immediately visible.

The naar's eye flicked to her for the fraction of a second, then the arrow loosed, striking home with a solid 'thunk' in Cale's side. Cale cried out in pain and collapsed. Song hit the dirt, throwing herself to the riverbank, ready for an arrow impale her as well. She rolled, looking up at the naar, fixing him with one of her most unnerving stares which was the only weapon she had. He met her eyes. She expected him to nock another arrow, but instead he watched her with a sorrowful expression. “I'm sorry,” he said.

As the naar finally reached for a second arrow, his eyes still locked with Song's, a whistle rang through the trees. It was definitely not part of the canned birdsong that looped periodically. The naar looked relieved, slipped the arrow back into his quiver, and ran clumsily off up the riverbank in the direction of the whistle.

“Five! Help me!” Song called, getting to her hands and knees and scrambling over to Cale. The man was curled around the arrow which still protruded from his side, dangerously close to piercing his intestines.

The vissi hurried out of the trees and squatted beside Cale. He looked at Song with frightened eyes, which stood out even more now from his muddy face.

“We have to get him back to cover,” Song said, her mind racing. Had they already lost one of their team members? She might have died as well if that Green Team naar had been more cold blooded. Then she recalled that a wound was worth more points today and wondered how many arrows could pierce her body before she finally died. Shuddering, she bent her head low over Cale's ear. “Come on, we need to go. We're not safe here.”

Cale's pale eyes opened for a second and met hers. Then, slowly, painfully, he uncurled and tried to stand. He Gasped and fell again as his leg gave under him.

“Can you crawl?” asked Five, raising his head to scan for more members of Green Team. Song knew that they could be swarming the area in moments, as soon as their ally got back to them with news that he had found Yellow.

Cale crawled. It was slow, it was obviously painful, and Song could not help but notice now many fat droplets of blood he left behind. She tried her best to kick mud over them as she helped the other human to struggle towards cover.

Finally nestled back in the underbrush, Song rolled Cale into his side, hand to her chin as she examined the wound. “It doesn't look too deep.”

“Speak for yourself,” Cale ground out between gritted teeth.

“What do we do?” asked Five, who was looking grey. Song worried he was going to shut down again and she'd have two problems to deal with.

“We have Nanogel,” she reminded them both, reaching for her canister and pulling it free. “So, I think we just need to pull out the arrow and inject him with this.”

“Oh is that all?” Cale asked. His breathing was getting shallow and Song remembered hearing something about 'shock' when one of her fellow slaves had broken a leg while repairing the roof back home. She didn't know what shock was, but she assumed it was bad.

“That's all,” she answered Cale using the firm, confident voice she used her young mistress whenever the little girl had decided some inconvenience warranted a tantrum.

“I can't watch,” Five, who was sitting on Cale's other side, turned around, covering his face for good measure.

Song tilted her head and locked eyes with Cale. “Seems to be just the two of us. Are you ready?”

“Fuck...no. Do it anyway,” Cale choked, one of his hands clamping, vice-like, on Song's knee.

Song nodded, sweat beading on her forehead. She lifted the little canister of Nanogel and turned the metal ring around the center as she had been instructed. A needled popped out of one end. She turned back to the man on the ground, setting the gel aside for the moment so she could brace one hand against his belly, the other gripping the shaft of the arrow. She too bared her teeth, letting her calm mask slip away as she yanked.

If they had been thinking, Song realized, they might have given Cale something to bite on because when she jerked the arrow free he screamed. She'd never heard a scream quite like it. It rattled her to her core and sent her nerves peaking again. He curled in on himself, gasping in pained breaths.

Song wiped her forehead with her wrist, trying to still a writhing Cale who was splattering blood onto her pants. She dropped the arrow and snatched up the Nanogel, moments before Cale rolled onto it. He was still making strained half-yells, but she ignored this in favor of haste. She grasped his shoulder to hold him as best she could and jabbed the needle into his side near the wound. He screamed again, hoarse and horrible, and she wished that Five would stop huddling off to the side and do something helpful.

The Nanogel drained from the container on its own and Song pulled it free when it was empty, tossing it away. Then she put one hand over the hole in Cale's side, feeling the warm blood well against her palm; and the other over his mouth, pressing firmly with both. There was a good deal of thrashing, muffled yells from under her hand as Song tried to see if anyone was coming. After what felt like an age, Cale stilled.

She slid her hand cautiously from his lips, staring down into his eyes which, thankfully, where clear. Song wiped his spit on her pant leg beside his blood, letting her calm expression slip back into place as she checked the hand over his wound. Her palm was coated thickly with red, but the arrow hole had sealed itself. All that remained was a puckered scar with bluish veins snaking away from it.

“You can turn around, Five,” Song instructed coolly.

The vissi checked over his shoulder, then maneuvered himself back to face them, shame evident on his features. “I... I don't like blood.”

“Good thing you were picked to fight in a death arena then,” Cale sighed, rubbing the spot where the arrow wound had been and sitting up gingerly.

“How does it feel?” asked Song, picking up the arrow and examining the deadly tip, still keenly sharp. The shaft was made of some kind of light weight metal.

“It tingles,” said Cale between gritted teeth, still massaging the spot on his side. He got to his knees with a grimace, scanning the forest and river. “Do you think we got anyone's attention?”

“Probably,” Song sighed, wiping the arrow along her leg, though Five looked queasy the dark streak it left on her pants. “The question is, do any of them care? If that naar was going to bring Green back to mop up what was left of us he would have by now.”

“He didn't shoot you too,” Cale noted, as though he had only just realized she did not have an arrow protruding from her body.

“He would have. He hesitated for some reason. Maybe he was trying to remember human anatomy and where to shoot me to injure but not kill. Injuries are worth more points this match, remember?”

“How could I forget?” Cale tried to stand and tipped sideways with a grunt. Song and Five both caught him, getting to their feet as well.

“Now that we're all muddy, where do we go?” asked Five.

“I don't know,” Song admitted, hauling Cale's muscular arm over her shoulder. “Look for the best hiding spot I suppose. Keep to the trees?”

The small, awkward group made their way deeper into tree cover. They hadn't made it far when a fresh voice boomed over the speakers above. “THE RING IS IN PLAY!”

“What?” Five gasped, looking around as though he could find the speaker.

“I don't-” Cale was interrupted immediately by the thunder of running feet. There was no mistaking it, like a monsoon rain rushing towards them. Except Song was afraid on monsoons and in this moment she thought she might shatter apart as her panic resurrected.

“Red Team!” Song caught a flash of crimson through the trees. “Get down!”

All three dove for cover, throwing themselves to their bellies behind a log. Without even realizing she was doing it Song tried to grab at the tall shrubs to pull them over herself. Seconds later Blue Team burst into the treeline. Their lead runner, who was several paces ahead of the rest, was carrying a golden ring about the size of an open hand. Her comrades were shouting her on as Red Team crashed through the underbrush, some even smashing smaller trees to splinters as they came.

The venitressa runner darted past Song and her companions without so much as glancing in their direction, but the fight which began between Red and Blue was far more pressing. Blue Team wielded both weapons and prism. The air sparked with energy as kulgar were tossed into the air or pinned in place by the venitressa's powers.

The massive reptilian kulgar gave as good as they got, using their bulk and natural claws to psychically destroy anyone and anything within reach. Even the prism energy didn't seem to both some of the oldest and largest ones and they surged into the vanitressa ranks, smashing wide paths with fists, tails, and even their heads.

Song had never been so close to a kulgar before and she hoped never to be again, provided she wasn't stomped to death by one in the next few seconds.

“Get after the runner!” A huge, scarred kulgar boomed, trying to encourage his teammates away from the fight. One listened, but it was clear as he started running that he would not be catching up to the swift venitressa.

The fight drew closer to where Song and her companions hid. They inched backwards on their bellies, struggling to stay clear and hidden at the same time. A Kulgar went flying and landed a mere foot from Song, showering her in disrupted rocks and soil. She clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from yelping in alarm. With this motion she realized that her entire arm was invisible. She risked taking her eyes from the battle to check the rest of herself and found that not only was her entire body completely gone, but so was Five and most of Cale. The last few scraps of the pilot that she could still see were vanishing rapidly. “Damn, Five,” she breathed, impressed.

The fight went on, none of the combatants guessing that the three panicked members of Yellow Team were huddled in the middle of the mess. Finally one of the venitressa yelled at his comrades, “we're not getting the win! Lei must have been intercepted! We have to get to the rendezvous point!”

Blue team disengaged with enough skill for Song to be impressed through her curtain of terror. Some of the venitressa even lifted into the air and took elegant, arcing leaps using their prism abilities.

Red Team roared in fury and gave chase, thundering past Yellow with such force that Song bounced with their footfalls. Judging by their additional shouts off victory Song guessed the reptilian giants believed their teammate had caught the venitressa with the ring. Song wasn't so sure as she watched them go, their huge feet stamping flat the underbrush and their trailing tails knocking great hunks out of the tree bark.

Song lay utterly still in the grass, barely breathing, not daring to move. It was like numbing electricity was rushing through her limbs, either from fear, or all the prism energy in the air.

“Fuck. Just.... fuck,” Cale said as he slowly became visible again. His face was drained of color and drenched in sweat. Song knew she didn't look much better.

Five slumped between her and Cale as Song maneuvered to face him, brows raised, not bothering to keep her feelings from her face. “Five, that was amazing! How did you-” Her brows came together. His black skin had gone so pale it was almost blue, his eyes were tight closed. “Five? Dammit, FIVE?” She shook him. He lolled limply against her.

“Five?” Cale squatted beside them, looking desperately at Song. “Is he-?”

“I don't know,” Song slid a hand up and prodded his neck for a pulse she didn't find. She put her hand over his mouth and the slits that were his nostrils. No breath tickled her palm. “Oh shit. Fucking shit, I think he's dead!”

Cale dragged a hand back over his stubble, words tumbling from him. “What? No. No way! He just... he covered us! He kept us safe that whole time! He can't be dead now! You're wrong. He has to be alive. Five? Five, buddy, come on!” He struck the vissi's shoulder with a fist. No reaction.

“Cale,” Song forced her voice to even out. It took more will than she expected. She almost couldn't bring herself to look down at Five's body, still tucked against her. “He said that using his prism ability took energy. To cover all three of us... it must have... it must-” She couldn't finish.

Cale sat down hard, pressing his palms over his eyes. His mouth moved as though he might be trying to speak, but for a long moment nothing came out.

Song gently lay Five down on the grass, arranging his long limbs carefully. “He didn't have to do that,” she said, low and almost inaudible. “He's only known us for a day. Why did he do that?”

“No.” said Cale, the firmness of the word startling Song.

“What?”

“No. This isn't going to happen,” Cale snarled. “Song, get his Nanogel.” Cale snatched his own canister from its holder and twisted the metal ring to bring forth the needle.

“Cale, no, he's dead. Nanogel doesn't work on dead people.”

Cales movements were frenzied. “No. Shhht. I saw this once. Little kid fell into the magnetic field of a drive core. His brain got all scrambled and it stopped his heart, but Luke pulled him free and revived him.”

Song didn't have time to ask who Luke was. When she was too slow getting Five's Nanogel, Cale snatched it and readied it as he had done with his own, then he looked back to her. “Song, look at me, where is the vissi heart? Here?” he pointed to a spot near the middle of Five's chest.

“No, here,” she corrected, moving his hands higher. “I think-” she second guessed, struggling to remember the vissi's she had known. Had any of them ever talked about how they differed from other species? It was an entertaining subject as they sat together after lights-out with the rain pattering hard on their compound roof. A vissi bragging how his ribs were springy and hard to break. A naar expounding on the merits of their tails for balance. Everyone making fun of how delicate humans were.

“Song? I need to do this now!”

“Okay, yes!” she said, uncertain what the insane pilot was planning, but too stunned to stop him.

Cale clasped his hands together and compressed the vissi's narrow chest several times, then turned and breathed into his mouth. Song sat back, baffled. Perhaps Cale had truly lost his mind. She should probably just leave. Get off this trampled battlefield and try to live through the rest of the game alone.

After Cale had done his strange ritual three or four times he injected the first canister of Nanogel near Five's heart, muttering the whole time, “come on Five. Come on, buddy. Let's go, Five...”

Song wanted to shout that the vissi was dead. He can't hear you. We need to go! Instead she sat, transfixed. To her utter shock and amazement, Five twitched, gave a strangled choke, then breathed.

“Yes! Yeah, Five! Come on, you got this!” Cale cheered, grabbing the other Nanogel and injecting it.

Five coughed, dragging in a rasping breath as both humans knelt protectively over him. Song was completely nonplussed. She looked up at Cale knowing she would be unable to summon her expressionless mask now, even if she wanted to. She wanted to say something to him, to articulate her admiration, but no words came.

“Alright, okay, easy now!” Cale was saying to Five, gently holding the vissi's shoulders. “You're okay.”

“What...happened?” Five's voice was a hoarse whisper.

“Cale brought you back to life.” Song said, still gaping at Cale in astonishment.

“I did a little bit,” said Cale, grinning from ear to ear.

Five coughed and both humans crouched low over him as if to form a barrier with their own bodies should more danger present itself. They remained like that, Five laying still, not saying much as color slowly returned to his skin, Cale and Song keeping watch. Whatever the other teams were doing, they seemed to be at it in some other part of the arena.

Song was not certain how much time passed, but there was another great sound over the loudspeaker and the game was finished. Grey Team had won.

Song's cuffs snapped together. All three let out little shouts of alarm and pain as their limbs were forced awkwardly out of position. “I suppose this is to stop us from continuing to fight?” Cale mused as all three lay on their backs, staring up at the false sky above. The same cloud kept repeating jerkily as Song watched. She thought it might not be so bad to lay like this forever after what she had just been through. Her heart didn't seem to remember its normal rhythm.

“Well I'll be damned. You made it.”

Song raised her head, her neck protesting stiffly. Their guard from that morning, Ric, was standing over them, the remote of their cuffs in his hand and the first interested expression Song had seen him wear on his face.


End file.
